One Thousand Destinies
by Insomniac Owl
Summary: The Prince of the Fire Nation does not do fortune tellers or beads or humming or inscense. Neither does he do Fate.


**One Thousand Destinies**

_by Insomniac Owl_

-

The Prince of the Fire Nation did not _do_ fortune-tellers. They implied weakness, and a certain desire to shrug off responsibility for one's actions on Fate. Plus, the places smelled weird. That said, Zuko wasn't entirely sure how he managed to let himself be dragged into this incense-filled, glittery, manipulative _hovel_ of a shop.

"Let's just get this over with," he growled, digging into his pocket and pulling out a few small coins. The fortune teller merely nodded, sweeping the coins into her palm and settling back into her cushion.

Silence.

Zuko watched the seer suspiciously, fingers itching toward his swords just in case she decided to make off with his money without giving him his future, even if it _was_ bogus. He didn't do charity any more than he did fortune-tellers. The seer had closed her eyes however, shadowed in beads and a thin white gauze. She didn't look like she'd be running anywhere.

"Close your eyes please," she told him, taking his hands. With this assurance that he would be able to tell if she made to run, Zuko closed his eyes, peeking every once in a while just to make sure. The girl's eyelids were fluttering, and she smiled.

"All the way please," she said softly, and after a second suspicious glance, Zuko acquiesced. And then she started humming. Sitting there with his eyes closed in a tent that reeked of lavender and cherry blossoms with that annoying buzz running through his head, Zuko got impatient.

"Well?" he inquired, somewhat angrily, "are you going to read my future or not?" The fortune-teller did not reply, but her hands in his let him know she hadn't fled.

"You are of the fire nation, yes?" she inquired, her voice soft and sure. "You've fled, haven't you…"

At that, Zuko froze.

"Your… sister, is it? Her power outstrips yours, but you know this, why am I telling you what you already know. You are very determined, and you are powerful in your own right. You will become more powerful in time, and you will fight her for your place… but you will be defeated."

Zuko's eyes had gone hard, angry. Filled with fire. "I will not -"

"But you will…" the fortune-teller interjected. Her voice retained its firmness, it sureness. "You have an enemy who will become a friend, and he will fight for you in the end. But it will come to naught. Your sister will defeat you, and take that which is her birthright. You have proven yourself to be determined, strong, but… your pain!" The fortune-teller was weeping, he could hear the tears choking her words as if she was drowning, and he willed her to die. He didn't want to hear this _bullshit_. "Your pain…." she echoes. "Your sister hates you as you do her. You were once her brother, but she fights you as a hated enemy. You challenge her, and she will topple you. Surrounded by friends once your enemies you will die, claimed by a hand of your own blood. Your struggle will be for naught… your sister will triumph. She will claim your country and your life as her own…

"And you will die."

The silence that fills the tent is empty. He can't breathe, can't force himself to take in air when he knows his face is death. He never believed in fortune-tellers, but maybe it's the incense, or the beads, or the goddamn _humming_ that stopped long ago, but….

He inhales.

"I don't believe you."

The seer's eyes are open just like his, and they meet across the emptiness. Golden and chocolate they meet, one hard, the other soft. Both sure of themselves.

"I do not lie."

"I don't believe you," he repeats, dropping her hands and rising. "I don't believe you." And as he stands above her, wanting so much to sent her tent aflame, he steels himself, and for perhaps the only time in his life, controls his temper.

"You can say that," the fortune-teller replies as he turns to leave, sweeping the curtain aside and leaving it smoking. "But remember -"

"_Remember_," he cuts in, golden eyes flashing, "that nothing in life is certain."

**finis**


End file.
